


A Second Chance

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-02 15:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: When Negan comes face to face with one of the Sanctuary’s new residents, he’s taken aback by her uncanny resemblance to someone from his past.  Everything about the reader takes his breath away, but what will he be prepared to give up to keep her by his side?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anonymous request on Tumblr which I decided to turn into a three-parter in order to do it justice. 
> 
> ‘So my request - the reader looks just like Lucille, acts like her. She first arrives at the sanctuary, works hard for points til Negan spottes her while working hard and falls head ober heels for her and does everything just for her, he leaves his wives and turns just for her into the one woman man, gives her special treatments but dont push her to be his wife … It could be a readers and negan - POV. Gimme all tha fluff!!’

Your eyes burned and your head ached, but you forced yourself to keep your concentration as Doctor Carson finished stitching up the final patient.  The sun was streaming in through the high windows, aiding him in his task, but the heat was overwhelming, your skin prickling as sweat trickled down your spine.  The group that had headed out on a supply run that morning had got caught up in a herd, running their truck headlong into a building in their hurry to get away, and barely any of them had emerged unscathed.  Since they’d arrived back at the Sanctuary, they’d been queued up in the corridor outside, waiting their turn as you cleaned wounds, watched the Doc deal with the deepest cuts, then patched them up and sent them on their way.  You’d been working as his assistant for a few months now, and you were used to the constant flow of higher-ranking residents, rich in points, dropping in with their various ailments, but this was something else.  You were exhausted, and the shadows under Carson’s eyes were even darker than usual.

‘The boss is pretty banged up too, Doc,’ the last man threw over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the door, the gash on his forearm newly sealed and a bandage around his elbow.  

You saw Carson’s shoulders slump at the thought of more work to do and cursed the community’s leader for feeling he was too important to come down to the medical office like everyone else.  The doctor put himself under a lot of pressure to keep everyone in the Sanctuary fit and healthy but it was a lot of work for one man.  It was even more work when he had to go traipsing round the building to do it.

‘What if I went to check on Negan?’ you suggested, though you hated the idea of tending to him alone. You’d not yet met the boss that the people seemed to revere and fear in equal measure, but, if the stories you’d heard were true, you could imagine that he was an intimidating character to say the least.  ‘I can see what the damage is and either patch him up myself or send someone to get you.’

‘Would you, Y/N?’  Carson’s smile was grateful though there was concern in his eyes as he wiped the back of his hand across his brow, leaning backwards as though to ease an aching spine.  ‘I need to clean the equipment and deduct everything we’ve used from the inventory before I lose track of things.  If our numbers are out…’  

He didn’t need to finish his sentence.  The punishments for inaccurate numbers were infamous, those responsible forever suspected of stealing, treated as outsiders.  You didn’t want that coming down on your head or his.

‘Of course.  Just let me grab something to clean him up and some bandages and I’ll head on up there.’

‘Better take some painkillers too,’ Carson instructed, shrugging at your look of confusion. Painkillers were rarely handed out, always being saved for something worse, something more serious.  ‘He probably won’t take them, but he’ll be angry you don’t offer.  He’s the boss after all.’

‘Right.’  Just another reason to add to the list of why you’d been trying to steer clear of the guy.  You gathered the things you thought you might need, cradling them in your arms as you turned to go.  ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’

 

* * *

 

Negan sat slumped over his desk, his head in his hands, reliving the horror of the day’s run.  It should have been simple.  They’d headed out to a town that they’d known had been abandoned.  They’d been watching it for a couple of weeks to ensure that there was nobody else coming and going, no threats to be noted, and there’d been nothing.  But of course, today of all days, a fucking herd had had to stumble into the centre, surrounding him and his Saviors before they’d even realised what was happening.  They’d had to fight their way out, losing a few along the way, and then when they’d finally made it back to the truck and were on their way to safety, their dickhead driver had panicked, misjudging a corner and driving the damn vehicle straight into the side of one of the warehouses on the outskirts.  The sound of crumpled metal had been sickening, and he could practically smell the fear in the air.  All of these people, his people, were hurt and, with the walkers closing in, they were looking to him for answers.  Just thinking about it stressed him the hell out, even now he’d managed to deal with it and get them all back home.

The cuts and bruises that covered his arms from where he’d thrust them up in front of his face to protect his head from the windshield smarted but he ignored the pain, reaching for the bottle of whiskey that sat beside his pile of paperwork and pouring a double measure into a glass.  He knew it wasn’t the answer but it had become the best solution he had more and more often recently.  He downed it in one, grimacing when the fiery liquid burned down his throat, but relaxing as the warmth hit his stomach.  That was exactly what he fucking needed.  What he’d do when the liquor supply ran out he didn’t know, but for now, it was helping.

A knock at the door roused him from his thoughts, and he called out for his visitor to enter, pouring himself another drink as a woman appeared in his office. He took a sip as she stepped into the light, nearly choking on it as her appearance took his breath away.  

She was so familiar.  The colour of her skin, the curve of her nose, the long lashes that framed her eyes…  Everything about her reminded him painfully of someone from his past, and he found himself whispering her name, as though she’d come back to him, returned from the dead, and was somehow standing in front of him right now, her face full of uncertainty.

‘Lucille.’

She glanced around warily, spotting the barbed wire wrapped baseball bat that she’d heard Negan usually sported leaning against the wall and gesturing to it.  ‘It’s-  I mean, she’s right there.  Did you want me to get her for you?’

When he didn’t respond, she took a tentative step towards him, proffering the bandages that were bundled in her arms.  ‘Someone said you got hurt in the accident today.  I just thought…  I told Carson that I’d check on you, make sure you were okay.’

God, she even sounded like Lucille, the same slight Southern lilt, the same gentle tones.  It stole his voice so that all he could do was stare at the poor girl, utterly dumbfounded.

‘Erm… Negan?’  Another step forwards, and now he could smell the scent of her, wafting across the desk towards him, the same sweet musk that he’d found himself surrounded by on so many nights, that he’d dreamt about so often since…  

She was still talking, approaching him cautiously as though he were a wounded animal, depositing her supplies in an empty space on the surface that separated them.  ‘I think you might be in shock.  Can you hear me?  I’m Y/N.  I know we haven’t met, but I’ve been working with the doctor for a little while now.  I’m just going to check you over, okay?  I need to clean up those cuts before they get infected.’

Her gaze was roaming over his arms, still spread out on the desk, the glass still clutched in his hand, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but continue to stare at her.  Shock was the right fucking word.  He felt like he was looking at a ghost.

‘Let’s take this away, shall we?’  Her voice was gentle, kind, as she slipped the tumbler out from between his fingers, placing it at the edge of the mahogany surface out of his reach.  ‘That’s not helping you right now.’

Had it been anyone else taking his drink from him, he would have argued, snapped, told them that he wasn’t a child and that they should be careful about how they were speaking to him if they didn’t want to feel his iron against their face, but he could remember Lucille doing the exact same thing when he’d been drowning his sorrows after a bad day at work, or when he’d sought solace in the bottom of a bottle as he watched her wither away, and a jolt of pain shot through his heart, causing a small groan to escape from his lips.  She gave him a look of sympathy.  

‘Does it hurt?’

‘It does.’  He finally managed to speak, eliciting a small smile from her as she rounded the desk to carry out her task.  Her small hands covered his, raising them so she could twist and turn his arms, inspecting his injuries before reaching for the bottle of antiseptic.

‘Okay, well this is gonna sting a little, but I’ll be quick, I promise.’

The bite of the liquid seeping in to his broken skin snapped him out of his daze, and he shook his head as though he could shake away his confusion.  ‘Shit, sorry sweetheart.  What did you say your name was?’

‘Y/N.’  She didn’t look up from where she was working on him, a trail of fire following her fingers as she took care of the numerous abrasions from his wrists to his biceps.

‘How long have you been at the Sanctuary, doll?’

‘Umm… a few months I think. Maybe a little longer.’

‘And you work with the doc?’

‘Yeah.  I started off in the warehouse, but when they found out that I was at medical school before… Well, I guess they decided I could be useful to Carson.’

Negan nodded slowly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, before attempting to speak again. ‘How are you liking it here?’

‘It’s fine.’  She had moved on now, happy that the risk of infection had been minimised, and was wrapping bandages around the deepest wounds. ‘Hard work, but better than being out there.’

‘Were you out there for long?’

‘A while.’  She wasn’t giving anything away and he was growing increasingly frustrated with it.  He was intrigued by her, this woman that was so like his late wie, and he desperately needed to know more, but she was already stepping back to scoop up her supplies from the desk.  ‘I think you’re good.  If you want I can ask Carson to drop by tonight and just double check that nothing needs stitching.’

‘Nah, that’s fine.  I’ll trust you.’  He forced a smile, trying to coax her out of her shell, but she was turning away from him and heading for the door.  ‘Stop!’  

She froze, and he could sense the fear emanating from her at his shouted order.  He hadn’t meant to raise his voice but he seemed to have lost all control.

‘I mean, sorry…  I just…  Why don’t you come back and have dinner with me tonight?  My way of saying thanks for coming by and patching me up.’  He knew he was rambling a little, his breath catching in his throat as she span back to face him, the resemblance just as shocking as when she’d first entered the room.

‘Oh, I… I’m just doing my job.  You don’t need to-‘

‘I want to.  Please.’

‘Is that an offer or an order?’  She was challenging him, but he could see the doubt behind her eyes and he longed to reach out to her.  Her eyes were too like Lucille’s for him to get any pleasure out of the effect he was having on her.  He wanted her to like him.  For some reason, it seemed so incredibly important in that moment, as though this was some kind of morbid second chance to get things right.

‘An offer.  You don’t have to.  I was just trying to be fucking nice, doll.’

‘Well, if it’s all the same to you then, I’d rather use my points and eat in the canteen with the others.’ She dipped her head as though in submission, her eyes glued to the floor.  ‘I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.’

She turned away from him again, pulling open the door, before pausing for a moment.  ‘Thank you though, for the offer.’


	2. Chapter 2

_‘Come now, sweetheart.’  Lucille’s soft lilting tone roused him from his drunken ponderings, and he blinked blearily at her as she moved slowly closer, reaching out a skeletal arm to coax the bottle from his fingers.  ‘That isn’t helping anyone, is it?’_

_‘S’making me feel better,’ he slurred, giving her a soft smile and linking his fingers through hers, pulling her carefully down onto his lap and cradling her against his chest._

_‘You won’t be saying that in the morning.’_

_‘I don’t like to think about tomorrow.  Not anymore.’_

_She sighed, turning her head into his neck, and he knew she was fighting back tears.  Of course he didn’t like to think about tomorrow.  Their tomorrows together were so limited now, each day both a gift and a challenge, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay strong for his wife._

_‘I don’t want to leave you.’  Her voice was thick with emotion and he nodded against her hair, his own a harsh rasp when he replied._

_‘I don’t know how to do this without you.’_

_‘You’ll be fine,’ she reassured him, her hand creeping up to stroke over his stubbled cheek, though she kept her face buried inside his shirt collar.  ‘You don’t need me as much as you think you do.  You’ll move on quick as anything, I’ll bet.’_

_He knew she was thinking about his indiscretions, his wandering eye and the countless nights that he’d wandered in at fuck-knows o’clock, smelling of another woman’s perfume, but she didn’t understand. Yeah, he’d fucked around and he felt like a fucking jackass because of it, but it had just been about sex, about getting off and getting gone.  She was still the only woman he’d ever loved, the only woman he thought he would ever love. He was beneath her._

_‘You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, princess,’ he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and tightening his grip on her as she nestled further into him.  ‘Ain’t nobody else in the world like you.’_

 

* * *

 

Negan woke drenched in sweat, the bedsheets clinging to his long limbs as he writhed beneath them, searching for the warm body that he’d been holding in his arms just moments before, but she was gone, lost in a dream or a memory, buried deep inside his head. He hadn’t dreamt about his wife in a long damn time, but this was the fifth night this week that she’d haunted his sleep and he knew he had to do something about it.  He’d been just fine occupying his mind with survival, with supply runs and keeping his communities in line, and ensuring that everybody under his control was following the damn rules, and then she’d come along.  Shit, that girl.  She’d been so like Lucillle.  The wave in her hair, the colour of her eyes, the gentle way she’d spoken to him. She’d even smelled the same as she leaned over him and that had fucked him up big time.  How was it even possible that two people could be so alike?

He’d been searching for her all week, desperate to find out more about her, to get to know her, even dropping by the medical centre under the guise of getting his bandages changed a couple of times just to have an excuse to talk to her, but she hadn’t been there.  From what he’d heard, and he had to admit he’d quizzed a couple of his men at length about her just yesterday afternoon, she was one of the hardest workers he had, always on the move, fetching supplies, checking on patients that had failed to turn up for their follow-up appointments, delivering meds, and doing any other task the good doctor assigned to her.  It’d be a shame to lose someone like that from the workforce if he popped the question and somehow managed to talk her into donning one of the little black dresses he kept aside for his harem, and yet…  Goddamn, he couldn’t get her out of his head.

He was pretty certain that even if he did ask her to become his wife she’d turn him down on the spot, and he wasn’t sure he could blame her for that.  He’d probably scared the shit out of the girl with his creepy staring and inability to form a coherent sentence.  She’d declined his dinner invitation after all, and there weren’t many around that would be brave enough to do that.  He had to admire her massive lady balls.   _Was it an order or an offer?_  What sort of fucking question was that. Obviously his fucking reputation had preceded him and she’d already had him pegged as a tyrant in her head before she’d even laid eyes on him.  Gah, he was off his game.  Any other girl and he’d have given her that smile he knew always worked, running his tongue over his bottom lip and waiting for her to become putty in his hands, but instead he’d fallen to pieces and ended up practically drooling on her as she worked.  Real fucking smooth, Negan.

Still, he couldn’t go on like this, and he resolved that he would end this tension, this endless frustration, today, even if it meant delegating everything else that came across his desk.  He had to talk to her, get her out of his system.  Hell, an hour in her company and he’d probably realise she wasn’t half the damn woman his wife had been anyway.  First impressions could be deceptive after all, and a pretty face wasn’t everything, even if it was real fucking pretty.

Rolling out of bed, he nodded to himself, feeling calm now that he’d decided to make a move.  A shit, a shave and a shower, and he was loping down the stairs, Lucille resting against his shoulder, ready to take this damn girl on and put his new obsession to rest.  He just had to find her first…

 

* * *

 

‘Well, you certainly made an impression.’

You glanced up at Carson as he slid into the seat opposite you, placing his tray on the table in front of him and jostling yours for space.  He rarely gave himself enough of a break to join you for breakfast, opening the medical centre early for any workers that needed a quick checking over before starting their jobs for the day, so it was a pleasant surprise to see him in the canteen, even if his opening statement made no sense to you.

‘I’m sorry?’  

‘On Negan.  He’s been in twice this week to get his bandages changed!’

‘So, the man isn’t keen on infection.’

‘I usually have to hunt him down to get a look at his injuries,’ the doctor scoffed.  ‘He was looking for you.’

‘Well, then I’m glad I was otherwise occupied.’  It was true. Although the big boss hadn’t been anywhere near as intimidating as you’d feared, the intensity of his gaze had made you uncomfortable, and you’d had to force yourself to keep your nerve as you patched him up.  Turning down his dinner invitation had been instinctive, but you still believed it had been for the best.  Your intention was to keep your life as simple and free of drama as possible. Getting into something with the head Savior, the one responsible for making the rules and punishing anyone that dared to break them, would definitely complicate that.

‘You’ll be in one of those little black dresses in no time,’ Carson teased and you rolled your eyes at him.

‘God, can you imagine anything worse?  Sitting around on your ass all day with absolutely no purpose or anything to fill your time except manicures and shallow conversation.’

‘You’d say no then? If he asked.’  His tone was light-hearted, but you could sense the concern behind it.  He was afraid that you were going to move on and leave him to cope alone.  He wasn’t getting any younger, and on long days the strain was evident on his face.  

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ you promised him, reaching over the table to squeeze his hand.  ‘Negan has enough damn wives to keep him entertained without trying to rope me in, I’m sure.’

‘Speak of the devil.’ Carson rolled his eyes and levered himself to his feet, taking a last swig from his water bottle before lifting his tray to clear it.  ‘I’ll be in my office if you need me.’  

You turned to watch him leave, your gaze sweeping over the crowded room until you picked out the long-limbed silhouette of your leader patrolling the perimeter.  Sighing, you turned back to the book that you’d abandoned when the doctor had joined you, but before long you were interrupted again.

‘Well, shit.  I thought that would be harder.’

‘I’m sorry?’  You let your book flip closed for the second time as you raised your head to meet Negan’s stare.

‘You’re not usually an easy woman to find, doll.  I was expecting to have to spend the whole damn day trying to track you down.’  He rocked back on his heels as he spoke, letting his obscene baseball bat swing down to the floor, where he rested it against the table, before taking a seat beside you.

‘I didn’t realise you were looking for me.  Is there something I can help you with?’

‘You turned down my dinner invitation.’

‘I did.’

‘Why?’

You kept calm, knowing that he was testing you but not really certain what he was hoping to achieve. He seemed to be trying to assert his authority, to prove his power, but it was unnecessary.  You’d heard the stories, you knew what he was capable of. ‘You told me it was an offer.  I assumed that meant I had a choice.’

‘But why make that fucking choice?  Shit, sweetheart, there aren’t many people round here that’d dare to turn me down.’

You held his gaze, unblinking, waiting for him to continue, refusing to let him force you to justify your decision.  

‘What if I asked you to come out with me today?  Would you say no to that?’

You kept your expression neutral as you processed his request.  Again, your instinct was to shoot him down, but the fact that he’d sought you out, and the agitated way that he was rubbing his hand over his beard led you to believe that there was more to this than you realised, and you had to admit that you were curious.  

‘It’s my day off,’ you responded eventually, knowing it wasn’t an answer but still caught between walking away and just going with it and seeing where this ended up.  What was the harm after all?  It might not hurt to get in good with Negan, as long as you had some boundaries set in your head before you left.

‘I’m not talking about fucking work, doll.  I’m talking about you and me getting out of this damn place and getting to know each other.’  His smirk was lascivious, but there was a desperation behind his eyes, urging you to give in, and it was that and his muttered, ‘Please, Y/N.  What do you want me to do?  Fucking beg?’ that finally convinced you.

‘Okay,’ you nodded.  ‘I’ll go with you.’

 

* * *

 

It should have been easy after that.  Negan had managed to get her to agree to spend the day with him, to let him take her outside of the fences and away from the Sanctuary.  Usually that would be the hard part, and the rest… Well, it was what he did, what he’d always fucking done.  Once a girl had given herself over to him, letting herself go along with temptation, it didn’t take much to talk his way into their hearts and between their sheets.  But now he was sitting in the truck with Y/N beside him, his cool had escaped him again and he was struggling to find the words to speak, to make any sort of conversation.  Every so often he’d catch her regarding him curiously from the passenger seat, and he knew if he didn’t say something soon that curiosity would turn into discomfort or boredom but… Shit, he just didn’t know how to talk to her.

She was a challenge, and he liked that.  Lucille hadn’t been.  She’d fallen for him as hard and as fast as he’d fallen for her, but he’d been older, aloof, playing the game, whilst she’d hung on his every word and answered his calls on the first ring.  He had the feeling that Y/N had never been like that.  Yeah, he’d caught her interest, but he thought it might be pity more than desire that had driven her to give him a chance.  She seemed largely unaffected by his attentions, and that as well as the gut-wrenching nostalgia that she awoke within him turned him into a tongue-tied mess.  Shit, she was looking at him again, drumming her fingers idly on the dash.  He had to say something.  Anything.  Shit.

‘They’re looking better.’

He glanced over at her, confused, only to find that her gaze was roaming over his bare arms, assessing the neatly-healed cuts that were still visible on his tanned skin. ‘Course they are.  Had the best nurse in town patch me up.’

‘Nurse?’  She raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head.  ‘I was like eighteen months away from becoming a fully-trained doctor, thank you.’

‘Sorry.’  Negan flicked his eyes back to the road, his grip tightening on the wheel as he scolded himself for being so condescending. ‘I didn’t mean-‘

A girlish giggle silenced him and he felt a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth as he realised she was teasing him, winding him up to lighten the atmosphere in the cab. ‘So, what did you do?  Before all this.’

And there it was.  His past.  He didn’t talk to anyone about his life before.  It was easier that way, a rule he’d made right at the beginning when the first group he’d been with had been torn apart.  No history, no connections.  It made it easier to move on when the people around you got themselves killed.

Sensing his hesitation, she backtracked, turning to look out of the side window at the fields flashing past. ‘It’s okay.  You don’t have to tell me.’

‘You really wanna know?’

She nodded, but stayed silent, encouraging him to go on.  ‘I was a teacher.  Sports coach actually.’

‘I can’t imagine that.’

‘Well, I was fucking good at it, I can tell you that.  I whipped those sorry shits into shape quicker than…’  He tailed off, trying to rein in his crude language, to keep the sexual innuendos to a minimum.  ‘Never had kids, so I figured why not impart some of my wisdom to other people’s, right? What about you?  I mean, I know you were a doctor, or nearly a doctor, but what else did you do?’

‘Not much,’ she admitted. ‘I mean, I used to waitress to pay the rent while I was studying, but there wasn’t a lot of time for much else.’

‘That’s life, huh, doll?’  Negan sighed, and she turned to him with sympathetic eyes.  ‘There’s never enough fucking time.’

They lapsed back into silence again, though this time it was comfortable, and Negan felt his nerves start to settle.  Lucille had never been good at comfortable silences.  Long stretches without words were always loaded with either sexual tension or hostility, and he’d enjoyed the challenge that that had presented, but there was a serenity that came with sitting next to Y/N and just driving that urged the last of the strain from his body.  It was then that he decided where he was driving to.

 

* * *

 

You felt like Negan had been driving for hours when he finally pulled up at a large green area on the outskirts of a neat, suburban housing estate.  The playing field, you imagined, would once have been neat and well-tended, but now it grew wild, the grasses long and feathery as they swayed in the breeze.  Over the far side you could make out a small playground, idyllic despite its long-time neglect, and you couldn’t help but smile at the picturesque scene.  You were surprised, given the proximity to the homes, that there were no walkers shambling about, but you supposed they’d probably all been drawn to the bigger cities now, or swallowed up in passing herds. As you eased open your door and slid out of the truck, your joints ached in protest at having been cramped up in the cab for so long and you took a moment to stretch them out, relishing the pull in your muscles as a whisper of wind danced over your skin.  It was a beautiful day.

Negan joined you, slamming your door closed, and nodding his head to a small path that had been trampled around the perimeter of the field.  ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

You wandered slowly, taking time to enjoy the glorious weather, Negan smiling indulgently as you crouched to inspect a small patch of wildflowers that had sprung up in the midst of the grass.  You talked. A lot.  About everything and nothing.  He told you about the Sanctuary, how he’d started it and built it up, mistakes he’d made, successes hard won.  And you told him about the groups you’d run with in the early days, the friends you’d made and lost, and how you’d eventually ended up within his walls.  The conversation flowed, and you realised that he was a different man out here without the pressures and responsibilities of ensuring a community’s survival.  His hazel eyes were kind and content as they met yours, and his dimples were on display more often than his frown lines.  You couldn’t equate this man with the whispers that flew around the building, talk of brutal punishments and theatrical murder.  This man was open and gentle, and you almost forgot why you’d had to force yourself to spend time with him, so when his hand slipped into yours, it felt as natural as breathing to link your fingers through his.  

As you neared the small play area, you noticed that he was growing quieter, and that his glances towards the houses that bordered the park were becoming more frequent.  His frown was edging back on to his face, and you could feel a pervading sadness that you didn’t understand.

‘Negan,’ you began when he exhaled loudly, his grip on your hand tightening as his thumb brushed over your knuckles.  ‘Why did you bring me here?’

For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he nodded his head towards the playground and gave you a small smile.  ‘Come on.’

He led you through the small metal gate, and took a seat on one of the swings, though it creaked ominously as he rocked it back and forth.  Following his lead, you took a seat on the swing beside him, waiting for him to speak.

‘That house over there,’ he started, raising his hand to point to one of the smaller properties, with a porch swing and a picket fence.  It probably would have made a lovely home, before.  ‘It used to be mine.’

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, though you wished you’d fought harder when he squeezed his eyes shut.  You could tell that he was hurting, wanted to reach out to him, but you knew he had more to share.  

‘You lived here?’ you prompted him, and he nodded.

‘We bought the place cos of this playground.  Thought it’d be perfect when we had kids, y’know?  We could watch them playing from the kitchen on the weekends, set up softball games on the field.  That was the fucking plan anyway.’

He’d already mentioned that he hadn’t had children, and you guessed now that that was more down to biology or circumstance than a conscious choice, but you didn’t want to dwell on that. ‘It’s beautiful.  Peaceful.  How come there aren’t any walkers round here?’

‘I send a group out to clear it every once in a while.  Hate the thought of it being…’

‘Tarnished?’

‘Yeah, something like that.’

You understood.  You hated the thought of walkers invading your childhood home, though you knew it was inevitable.  If you had the manpower and resources that Negan did, you thought you’d probably preserve what you could as well.  Still, your curiosity had reared its head again, and you couldn’t stop yourself from backtracking, asking, ‘So, who’s we?’

‘Huh?’  Negan’s eyes had glazed over, and you realised he’d been lost in his own head for a moment, in memories or, perhaps, might have been’s.

‘You said ‘we bought the place.’  I just wondered who ‘we’ was.’

‘Oh.’  He hung his head, scuffing his heel against the dusty ground, avoiding your gaze.  ‘Me and Lucille.  My wife.’

 

* * *

 

Negan watched Y/N’s eyes widen in understanding.  He hadn’t told anyone at the Sanctuary about his wife, just as he’d kept the details of his life before the apocalypse from them, but if Y/N was his second chance, then he needed to be honest with her from the start.  He wasn’t sure yet what he wanted this to be, a friendship or a relationship, whatever she’d let him fucking have, but he knew that he needed more days like today.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt more relaxed, more at peace with himself. She wasn’t looking to him for answers or safety, she wasn’t sizing him up or trying to beat him down.  There was something refreshing about that.  

‘She…’  She started to speak but tailed off, not wanting to verbalise what she already knew.

‘Died.  Yeah.  Right back at the start.  Cancer.’

‘I’m sorry.’  He could see her mind whirling, and knew she was probably psychoanalysing the shit out of him in her head, using his loss to explain his multiple wives, his hostility, his isolation from those he commanded. She wasn’t wrong about any of it, and he was almost relieved that somebody finally knew the truth.  Everybody had lost someone these days, maybe everyone, but watching Lucille waste away in front of his eyes…  It was the most painful thing he’d ever had to do and it had changed him, irrevocably.

‘You’re probably wondering why I brought you out here.’

‘I guess, you just needed someone to talk to?’

‘I need to show you something, and I don’t want you to freak the fuck out, doll, okay?’

‘Okay.’  He sensed her hesitancy, but he had to do this.  He needed her to know why he’d been acting like a fool since she’d stepped in to his office a week ago.  Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a crumpled photograph, fading around the creases.  He studied it for a moment, his heart aching painfully as he looked at his past, before handing it to, he hoped, his future.

Her sharp intake of breath set him on edge, and he grit his teeth, waiting for her to say something, anything.

‘This is…’

‘Lucille, yeah.  Back when I first met her.’

‘She’s…  I mean, she looks like…’

‘You.  You’re fucking doppelgangers or some shit.  Knocked me for six when I first saw you.’

‘So, that’s why you wanted to spend time with me?  Because I remind you of your dead wife.’  Her tone was harsh, her eyes shooting shards of ice as she regarded him coolly.

‘To start with, yeah. But not anymore.  You’re different.  I mean, you’re similar as fuck in a lot of ways, but…’  He was following his policy of being honest, but it didn’t seem to be getting him very far, as she shoved the picture against his chest, waiting for him to take it, before she exhaled shakily and climbed to her feet.  

‘Take me home, Negan.’

‘Y/N, I-‘

‘I want to go home.’


	3. Chapter 3

It had been three weeks.  Three weeks since the day he’d managed to coax her into giving him a chance.  Three weeks since he’d made her laugh, watched her revelling in the peace of the old playing field, enjoying the beauty of nature as it reclaimed what the humans used to control.  Three weeks since he’d been brutally honest with her and messed it all up.  Negan wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he’d shown Y/N that old photograph that had been tucked away in his jacket pocket since Lucille got sick.  He’d thought he might be freaking her out with his sudden and intense desire to know her and that by offering up some sort of explanation she might understand it a little better, be more open to the idea of getting to know him too.  Instead, she’d shoved it back at him and the ride home had been spent in a silence so cold he’d felt his blood turn to ice in his veins.  He’d ruined it.

Of course, he understood the reaction.  Shit, if some girl had told him she had a thing for him cos he looked like her dead husband, he’d have thought she was fucking nuts.  He still would’ve slept with her, sure, but he’d have kept her at arm’s length, alert for the first sign of crazy so he’d be able to make a swift exit.  Why the hell had he thought Y/N’s thought process would be any different?  She was only human after all, no matter what kind of angel he’d made her out to be in his head.  The biggest frustration was that, in the hours they’d spent together prior to him opening his big mouth, he’d started to notice subtle differences between her and Lucille, but rather than dissuading him from her, it had only made her more appealing.  He wasn’t ready to give up.  Not yet.

In the days after they’d returned to the Sanctuary, he’d been trying his best to worm his way back in to her affections, or at least convince her to hear him out.  His attempts so far had been poorly received and there’d been no sign of a thaw in her cool attitude.  She wouldn’t even look at him when he stepped into the same room, let alone speak to him, and his feeble gifts had made no difference.  He’d had chocolates left for her in the medical office, flowers waiting on her pillow when she got home, a pair of diamond earrings subtly slipped on to her tray in the canteen.  All chicks dug that shit, didn’t they?  Evidently not, as he had it on good authority that each of those tributes had been passed on to her roommates to share and enjoy.  So, he’d racked his brains to try and figure out what he knew about her, thinking maybe he needed to prove to her that he’d been paying attention.  He’d asked his Saviors to keep an eye out on supply runs for books similar to the one that he’d seen her reading at breakfast, leaving a pile teetering on Carson’s desk with her name clearly marked out on top.  He’d been pleased to see that these at least she seemed to have kept, though she didn’t thank him or even acknowledge him when he’d popped in to check on the antibiotic supplies.  He’d found a long knitted cardigan in the marketplace, which he’d snuck in to her pile of clean laundry, remembering how she’d glowed in the warmth of the sunshine and complained about how cold the Sanctuary got at night, but still nothing.

Which was how he’d ended up here, standing outside her door at stupid o’clock in the morning and trying to work up the courage to knock.  This was it, his last ditch attempt.  It had taken him a while to build up to this: there had to be decisions made, arrangements put in place, but he was ready now.  After this, he had nothing more to offer her.

 

* * *

 

You blinked blearily as a soft knocking pulled you slowly back into consciousness.  You’d been dreaming.  Soft hazel eyes and warm fingers linked through yours, a gentle half smile and dimples that made your stomach dip.  It wasn’t the first time, and you were fairly certain it wouldn’t be the last.  Negan was in your head, as much as you hated it, and when you stumbled out of bed and across the room to the door to find him standing there with a pleading look on his face, you almost thought that maybe you were still locked inside your own imagination.

‘We need to talk.’  His voice was a soft rasp, kept low to avoid disturbing any of your sleeping roommates.

‘I don’t have anything to say to you.’  You were reluctant.  You’d been hurt, more hurt than you could really understand, when he’d told you about his wife, about your startling similarities.  You felt like you’d connected as you’d talked, like he was opening up and sharing things with you, and the revelation that it was just because you looked like someone from his past… You’d had to fight to keep the tears at bay.  It was ridiculous, you knew that.  You barely knew this man!  You’d spent one day with him and barely spoken to him prior to that.  But there was something there, and if you left yourself open to it, you knew he had the potential to cause you a lot more pain.

‘Please, Y/N.’  He was reaching for you now, his hand hovering in mid air as though he thought you might scream if he actually made contact. ‘Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.’

You sighed, but you could hear movement in the room behind you and knew that your quiet conversation was already causing the other girls to stir.  The last thing you needed was for them to wake up to find the big boss at your door making puppy eyes at you.  ‘Fine.  Out here.’

You moved past him, letting the door swing closed behind you with a gentle click, and paced down the corridor a way before sliding down to sit against the wall and hugging your knees to your chest.  A moment later, Negan dropped down beside you, his body so long that he couldn’t stretch his legs out all the way.  He looked uncomfortable and for a moment you felt sorry for him, but you gave yourself a mental shakedown.  The guy was twisted, a total jerk.  He wasn’t deserving of your pity.

‘Look,’ he began, his stare fixed on the toes of his boots as he scuffed them against the opposite wall. ‘I’m sorry for springing that on you in the park.  I was just trying to be fucking honest with you, but I should’ve thought about how it would sound.’

You nodded slowly, acknowledging the apology but not ready to accept it just yet.  ‘Yeah, well, it sounded pretty crappy, Negan.’

‘I know.  I wasn’t trying to…  I just…  Look, being honest with women, it’s not something I’m really good at.  I mean, I haven’t ever…’  He tailed off with a sigh, shaking his head.  ‘Shit, this is hard.’

He turned to look at you, his eyes lost and desperate, his brow furrowed as he took a deep breath. ‘Look, I like you, Y/N.  I really fucking like you.  And yeah, at first, it was cos you looked so much like Lucille, and it… It screwed me up, I’ll admit that.  Goddamn, you even sound like her, talk like her.  You’ve got her laugh.  When you took my drink away, it was like she was in the damn room and I… I’ll admit, it’s why I sought you out. I thought maybe you were my second chance to not fuck things up with her - yeah, hand ups, I did that.’  His gaze was roaming over your face, waiting for a reaction, but you kept your expression neutral, though each word caused the knot in your stomach to tighten.  ‘But when I took you out that day, I realised that you’re not her.  You’re different in a lot of little fucking ways, but that just made me like you more.’

‘How?’  You finally spoke, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.  If what he was saying was true, you needed details to be able to believe that his intentions weren’t what you’d thought.  ‘How am I different?’

‘Shit, doll, what do you want?  A list?’ You glared at him and he sighed again, before reaching over to stroke your hair back from your face, tucking the loose waves behind your ear with a small smile.  ‘Fine.  You want a list, I’ll give you a damn list.  

Your skin, first off.  Lucille’s was smooth and clear, but yours freckles in the sun, over your nose and across your cheeks.  It’s fucking cute as shit.

You aren’t afraid of fucking silence.  With Lucille, silence was a weapon, but with you it’s just… comfortable, natural.  I like that.  It’s peaceful.

You read.  Actual books, I mean.  Most I ever saw Lucille read after college was those stupid glossy magazines about how to lose weight and make your boobs look bigger or some shit.  She always said they helped her to destress after work but, hell, I got sick of the sight of the damn things.  Braindead garbage, if you ask me.

You don’t seem to expect anything from anybody.  You definitely don’t seem to rely on anybody for anything, and I don’t think you even know how fucking refreshing that is.

You laugh more easily, you work damn hard, and you don’t care if you break a fucking nail.’  He fell silent, reaching for your hand and holding it up to inspect your rough and work-worn fingers.  ‘Lucille was like… fire.  I mean, she was passionate and vibrant and alive, but she had the worst damn temper of anyone I’ve ever met, and I lived with the constant fear of getting burnt.  S’why I fucked around as much as I did.  Had to find some way to escape the fucking flames.’

‘And what am I?’  He had your rapt attention now, and you couldn’t tear yourself away.  He’d noticed things about you, little details that you couldn’t believe he’d picked up on so quickly, and your heart was racing as you waited for him to answer you.

‘You’re like… like diving in to a lake on the hottest fucking day of summer.  I feel like I can relax around you, like all of the stresses and the responsibility just disappear.  You’re calming and cooling and you make me feel… clean.  Like everything I’ve done, everything I have to do to keep this place fucking going, just gets washed away.  It’s like instant relief.  One smile from you and I’m refreshed.  A new fucking man!

So, I figure you are my second chance.  I just got it wrong the first time.  You’re not my second chance to make things right with her, with Lucille.  You’re my second chance at actually finding someone that makes me happy.  Cos, sweetheart, all I want is to make you happy every single day.’

You were speechless at his declaration, unsure what to say or how to feel.  ‘I don’t…  Negan, we still barely know each other.  How can you know that I’m the one you want to be with?  And how do I know that this isn’t just another fling that you’ll soon get tired of?’

‘How could you even think that?’  He looked taken aback, but you had things you needed to say too, and you couldn’t let his romantic claims stop you from considering the reality of your situation.

‘You have like…God, how many wives?  It doesn’t exactly say much for your attention span or your commitment, does it?’

 

* * *

 

Negan had guessed that was coming, and this was it, the last arrow in his quiver as it were.  If this didn’t convince her that he was totally, completely, 100% fucking serious about her, then nothing would.  ‘Gone.’

‘What?’

‘They’re gone.  I got rid of them.  They’re sleeping in the dorms and working for points, just like everybody else now, doll.’

‘But… I thought… how?  When?’

‘Since last week. They all agreed to marry me because they needed something – medication or protection or some shit like that – and I’ve guaranteed that they’ll still have those things.  But that’s it.  It’s fucking over.’

Her mouth was hanging open, and he longed to lean over and plant a kiss on her lips, just to see what she’d do, how she tasted, but she was shaking her head and he knew it wasn’t time yet.  ‘But… why?  I don’t…  I don’t understand.’

‘Because I only fucking want you, Y/N.  I know it’s fast, and I know it’s fucking terrifying, but you walked in to my office and since then I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind!  If I let you walk away, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my fucking life, so I’m gonna do whatever it takes to convince you that I want this.’

‘Negan…’

‘I’m not proposing here, doll, I’m not.  I’m just asking you to give me a fucking chance.  Can you do that?’

‘I-I don’t know.’

‘Fine.’  Right moment be damned, he was fucking going for it. ‘See if this helps you to make up your mind.’

The kiss was soft at first, slow and exploratory, but when she sighed against his mouth, he took it as permission to stop holding back, and he curled his fingers into her hair, holding her lips to his as he consumed her.  She tasted like Lucille, she did, and it was incredible and terrifying, but then she was kissing him back, and she was different, less aggressive, less dominant, and it was extraordinary.  God, he wanted her.  If it had been up to him, he would have ripped off her pyjamas and taken her right there on the hard concrete floor, but he knew better than to push his luck.

Pulling away and leaving her breathless and panting, her face flushed as she gazed at him, prodding tentatively at her lips and finding them swollen and tingling, he quirked his mouth up in a questioning grin.  She couldn’t deny that, no fucking way.  That was electric.  She had to feel it.

‘Well, sweetheart, what’s it gonna be?’

Recovering herself, she took a deep breath and raised an eyebrow at him.  ‘Are you going to make me stop working?’

‘Not a fucking chance, doll.  You’re far too good at what you do to lose you from the workforce.’

‘And you’re not gonna make me wear one of those skimpy little dresses?’

‘Well, never say never.’  He leered at her and she dug an elbow into his ribs, though he could tell she was fighting back a giggle by the way she was biting down on her bottom lip.  ‘Maybe we’ll just save that for special occasions.’

‘So, what would you expect from me?’

‘Whatever you want to give me, Y/N.  I don’t want some sham relationship where you actually hate my fucking guts but I’m in charge so you have to play nice.  I want something real.  Shit, I want to do this the old-fashioned way and see if we’ve really got something here, okay?  No expectations, no bullshit.  Just you and me.’

He thought she was going to argue some more, could see the cogs whirring in her head as she stared at him, but then she was crawling into his lap and wrapping her arms round his neck so she could kiss him again, urgent, wanting kisses that stole his breath and his heart as he cradled her to him and held on tight.  This was it.  His second chance.  He was going to do it fucking right this time if it killed him. She wasn’t Lucille, but she was his, or she might be, and he wasn’t going to lose her by doing something stupid.

‘Negan,’ she murmured against his lips, and he pulled away to see her grinning at him, her fingers still combing through the hair at the back of his neck.

‘Yes, princess.’

‘Wanna go get some scrambled eggs?’

He couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled from his chest as he gawped at her in disbelief.  ‘Are you shitting me?  I’m kissing you and you’re thinking about food?’

‘I’m hungry,’ she teased, pressing her lips to his forehead, and wriggling out of his grasp.  ‘Come on, Mr Old-Fashioned, reckon you can eat in the canteen like us common folk and take your girl on a breakfast date?’

‘Fuck yeah, I can do that,’ he nodded, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. ‘For you, I’ll do fucking anything.’


End file.
